


Muted Nebulous

by phantomessangel



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: AU, Action, Adventure, Character Study, F/M, Gen, OC, Other, Some peril maybe, Turning things on their head, Twilight References, Twilight Reimagined
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomessangel/pseuds/phantomessangel
Summary: Melanie Andrews' life seemed to be spiraling out of control. Her past was all a series of blurs, distorted images and incoherent, disjointed memories. She knew though, deep down, it was a sad story, though she couldn't remember it. But the color gold and her familiarity with name Cullen would set her world on the course to discovering the truth...or it would be her undoing.





	1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

"Don't do this. Please."

His voice was hoarse, strained and forced. He felt the crushing weight of the situation pounding against his chest. It hurt. It ached. He wanted to claw at it, expel it from himself.

But for all the power that pressed against him, weighed down upon him, encroached on his senses, he could not fight against it no matter how much he wished to. The air was thick with the horror of what was to come. He could sense a shift in the atmosphere, in the way time moved. The minute particles of dust seemed frantic as they fluttered and curled about him, pulled and prodded by some unseen force.

Everything seemed to slow and speed up all at once and he found himself trapped in the horrifying loop, the terrible reality where he was but a spectator.

He couldn't change anything, couldn't do anything.

He was nothing. He was worthless.

Worse still were the haunted eyes, the look of utter resignation as she slipped past him and stood as tall as she could in front of him.

Protecting _him._

"There has to be another way. Any other way. Just, don't do this."

She turned and smiled towards him, her lips curved lightly upwards, eyes softly framed by long, dark lashes which did nothing to hide her exhaustion nor ease the reality of her suffering. Her cheeks were sallow and pale, lips chapped and broken and a bruise ran across her jaw.

But the light of late afternoon cast a halo about her golden hair and in that moment he felt the pang of loss, the deep-seeded horror of what was slipping through his fingers.

But she would not be swayed.

"I won't. I'm sorry but I won't. Not again. I won't let it happen again. Not to you. Not to your family. I can't. It'd kill me."

The sorrow that skittered across her face, marring her emerald eyes was unnerving and he watched her blink a few times to steady her warring emotions.

She swallowed a few times and sucked in a lungful of air before nodding her head once towards him.

"I can't. Never again. Please understand. I'm so sorry for all of this. You deserve better."

And with that, she was gone, her stride purposeful, hands clenched into tight fists as she marched towards the group standing at the gate, their shadows stretched long in early twilight hour, where the sun kissed the horizon and the deep, cool blues of even bled across the sky.


	2. Night

**"Children will always be afraid of the dark, and men with minds sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse."-H.P. Lovecraft**

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

'It's cold.' Her sluggish mind supplied as she slowly crept towards wakefulness.

In the stillness, and in in her wearied mind, weight of her chest as it rose and fell seemed unbearably heavy, aching with each small gulp of air she managed to swallow.

'it's very cold.'

Why was it so cold?

Where was she that it might be this cold?

She felt tired.

Exhausted really. Her bones ached and the thought of moving stirred unpleasant emotions within her. Even if it were this cold, she couldn't bring herself to desire to seek warmth.

Her fingers twitched lightly and a jolt of pain shot through her senses, forcing her mind alert and making her hiss lowly in pain.

What had...?

She frowned and tried to open her eyes.

But they felt weighed down, pulled forever closed by sheer exhaustion.

She tried to move her hands again, feeling the way her fingers slowly arched and stretched, grazing the cool, wet surface beneath her form. It seeped through her sleeves and backside, sending shivers down her spine.

Her ears picked up the slow, steady 'drip' of water nearby and she felt, rather than heard, the biting wind as it nipped at her cheeks and nose, scraping across her lips.

A shiver ran through her as she tried once more to open her eyes.

A few pathetic twitches and slow blinking gave her the ability to crack a peek at her surroundings.

She was met with the stars overhead, framed by the dark shadows of tall pines that surrounded her, their peaks jutting out as a framework for the twinkling, silver orbs that illuminated the sky. Her vision was hazy, her view limited, but the image struck her.

It was both beautiful and terrifying.

Beautiful because she'd always loved the night sky, the swirling array of particles and bursts of light as they danced across the deep blue of the evening.

She remembered that much at least...

But it was terrifying because she did not know where she was or how she came to be here.

Or anything really.

'You can't just lay here. You have to get up.'

Her mind was whirring, alarm bells were sounding as she struggled to move her muscles. There was searing pain in her arm. Her head throbbed dangerously.

She let out a low hiss of pain and blinked back the tears that pricked at her eyes.

Her vision swam lightly as she continued on, pushing her hands against the ground, trying to gain purchase with her fingers. She needed momentum.

She needed to keep moving. Just a little more.

With a grunt, she managed to shimmy onto her belly, her arms aching as though they were on fire. She shivered as her cheek fell against the cool, crisp winter snow.

'That's why it had been so cold...'

But she could have sworn that...had it been summer? Hadn't it been warmer?

A twig snapped to her left and panic kicked in. A sense of self-preservation ripped through her and she tried desperately to rise, afraid of what might be lurking out there.

She didn't know why she was so scared...apart from being alone in a forest...in winter?

Beyond that, however, there was a thought...just an inkling really. Something was amiss and she was in danger of some sort.

Something was very, very wrong.

'Come on. Get up! You can do this.'

Her arms were shaking, wrists protesting the weight she placed upon them as she tried to rise. Her fingers dug into the ground as she slowly dragged her legs up, placing weight upon her knees, feeling the cool snow seeping into her pants.

Another twig snapped, and her heartrate increased, her breathing shallowed and she scrambled to her feet.

That was a mistake.

As quickly as she'd risen, her weight would not support her. Knees buckled, wrists gave out, and her body fell forward, smacking against the frozen ground.

She let out a low groan, her vision swimming and dimming before going completely dark.

'Blast'

* * *

He sucked in a lungful of air and let his eyes slip closed, reveling in the touch of the cool, winter wind as it danced across his skin. In the distance he could hear the soft rustling of the few leaves that remained on the trees as the cooler temperatures had descended.

Further still he could detect the faintest crunching of the snow beneath soft paws of a rabbit as it silently and hesitantly maneuvered through a thicket, no doubt wary of predators at this time of night.

He smirked at the irony of the situation. Here he was, observing the cycle of nature's habitats: predator and prey, one skulking, pacing, watching its prey, waiting in the shadows for the right moment to pounce.

He was such a predator, stalking his prey, reveling in the nighttime atmosphere, the deep, rich colors, the blues and greys, dark browns and the faintest inky spots of black mixed together with the tantalizing, calming stillness that the midnight hour afforded him. The glistening, vibrant starlight beckoned him, pleased his senses, alighted his mind and made him stop in wonder.

At this hour, in this isolation, in the silent tranquility that no other moment could accomplish, he felt freer than ever, more at ease with who he was.

And what he was.

He was a predator.

And this was his domain.

This was his time to hunt.

Though lucky for the rabbit, he was after larger game.

He flexed his long fingers, marveling at how fluid their movements were and how easy it was to feel the adrenaline coursing through him.

His senses were piqued, his attention to each movement razor sharp. He noted the way a fox scuttled through a field and how the low hum of the traffic in the far distance reverberated through the trees.

Sucking in another large breath, he cast his eyes upward and listened, stilling his movements, straightening his stance.

His bare feet sank easily into the snow, tickling the skin, though he was spared from feeling the biting cold the snow produced.

He peered at the stars carefully, analyzing the constellations, memorizing their position in relation to his own, trying to gauge just how large the distance way between himself at once particular brightly burning sparkle in the sky.

All the while his ears were perked, waiting patiently for the slightest signal that his prey was here.

He wasn't sure how long he was standing there, watching how the stars shifted (or rather how the earth shifted in accordance with the passage of time and its revolution around the sun...) but he saw the way the clouds drifted in and out of his line of sight, and he noted the faintest shifts in the growth of light across the horizon.

He knew that some time had passed...

And then a twig snapped.

And he was off, anxious and anticipating a victory.

And a nectar that would satisfy the growing ache in his throat.

He darted through the trees, feeling the wind whip past his face, noting how the branches brushed against his arms and cheeks, nipping at his clothes, snagging and tearing a few holes in his shirt.

It was inconsequential really.

All that mattered was the thirst, the hunting, the satisfaction of dominating over this aching need.

His vision tunneled and he could see it, through the brush, across the brook and just on the other side of the overturned tree.

It was feeding in the meadow...

'Edward.'

He briefly heard his name before he lunged at the creature and all rational thought eluded him...

'Edward'

He could hear his name being called in the distance, echoing inside his head.

He recognized that voice and he straightened in surprise, his thirst sated for now.

He peered at the sky, noting the rosy hues of morning peeking over the horizon, lightening the sky from the rich navy blues to more subtle, brighter hues.

'Edward I need your help.'

That comment surprised him and he hastily brushed off his clothes and strained to understand what was going on.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Where are you?" he queried into the receiver.

* * *

"...ey...with...you...kay?"

Her head was pounding as she slowly came back to wakefulness. Apart from the ringing in her ears she could have sworn that she heard something odd.

She flexed her fingers lightly, feeling the familiar pain in her joints with each movement and recalling (with resigned defeat) the biting cold that had seeped through her clothing and onto her skin.

It glacial really.

"Can you...?"

There it was again. Muffled words and a muddled voice. But, hadn't she been...alone? Or had she been dreaming?

"Breathing changed. She's coming 'round I think."

"How long..."

The words muddled again and she groaned lightly and tried to move, tried to pry her eyes open.

Now there were two voices?

Was she hallucinating?

It was so cold.

Why was it cold again?

There was pressure near her ear and her heartrate spiked of its own accord.

Was she in danger? Who or what was that? What was going on?

"Look at me. Come on now, it's alright. Just open your eyes."

The voice was clearer this time. They were commanding her? Her eyes? She needed to open them. Right.

She strained against the threatening darkness and pressed her palms into the ground, digging through the cold snow (she remembered now why it was so cold) and willed her eyes to open, to connect that soft, dulcet pleadings with a face.

It was a comforting voice after all. Maybe she wasn't in danger?

Slowly her eyes slid open, her vision blurry as it had been earlier and she saw the distorted figure of someone crouching over her, peering (rather closely) at her face).

She sucked in a breath and jerked backwards involuntarily, trying to get away. Close. They were too close.

Cold hands grasped her shoulders and she felt the air leave her lungs in a 'whoosh'

Flashes of a leering face streaked across her mind's eye and she strained harder against the person's grip.

"Woah, easy easy easy. It's alright. You're alright." The voice was softer this time, the grip on her person loosening slightly. "No one's going to hurt you. I promise. I'm only here to help."

She blinked a few more times, trying to focus her eyes in order to see her captor (rescuer?) more clearly.

"Can you get a read?"

She heard the faintest murmur as she squinted up at the man's face, feeling the gentle pressure of fingers against her scalp, beneath her hair.

"You have some bleeding on your head, near the crown and at the base of your hairline. That would account for the dilated pupils and fluttering." His voice was low, the pleasant tones of his voice inviting and warm, thought tinged with the underlying current of worry. "And I suspect there might be a broken bone or two in your hand."

His fingers gently skirted over the flesh of her hand, careful not to jostle anything.

Slowly she caught on to the fact that the man's hair was a brilliant blonde, shining in contrast to the darker sky around him. And blinking a few more times, her vision slowly swam into a clearer focus she caught the cool pallor of his cheeks and the rosy hue of his lips as he murmured too low for her ears to hear.

His eyes, though, they struck her quite profoundly and for a moment, she could have sworn that it was important that she focus on his eyes.

Something about their color.

It was important.

Why was it important?

* * *

'Can you get a read for me?'

That was the second time the request was made of him and though he was loathe to admit it...

"No."

The word came out softly, too soft for the girl to hear, he was certain. And he was glad for that. For the remark came out harsher than he intended.

But, it rankled him, and set him on edge. Never had he been unable to read someone, to understand their thoughts and peek into their minds.

His hands tightened into fists at the thought and his curiosity piqued. By all accounts this girl was no different than any other girl he'd ever seen or met. His calculating gaze swept over the glassy eyes (green he noted) and the proportionate but unremarkable features, watching with cool disinterest as Carlisle carefully attended to her injuries. Beneath her dark blonde locks there were several contusions and her brow was sporting another, rather nasty gash. Her nose, a small upturned thing was swollen, bruised and turning an interesting shade of amethyst, and he noted, with some worry, the blue hue on her lips.

'Hypothermia' Carlisle speculated silently, casting a brief glance towards him. 'She's showing signs of it. Color of her lips, pale cheeks, cold to the touch. We have to get her warmed up quickly.' He'd placed his jacket beneath the girl's head, shaking his head lightly at the state the girl was in.

'Out here in nothing but jeans and a light sweater?' The incredulity was evident from both of them. And, he confessed, so was the curiosity.

What would drive a girl to go wandering out in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere in nothing but jeans and a light sweater? She'd never last the night like that.

But he couldn't read her, couldn't get an understanding of what had happened or what she'd intended by travelling out so far on her own.

It didn't make sense.

He went to step forward, to peer at her more closely as his phone buzzed anxiously in his pocket.

Probably Alice.

He ignored it for the moment and took a silent step closer to Carlisle as he carefully assessed the girl's shoulder, and arm, the doctor's expert fingers nimbly grazing the skin, pinpointing the unusual markings and scrapes.

'She's been through a lot. We'll need to get her to the hospital.'

"Can you tell me if you're feeling any pain in any specific places?" the doctor queried at the girl, carefully glancing over her face.

The girl grimaced briefly before sucking in a lungful of air.

"h-h-h-and-d-d. S-s-s-or-r-ry."

Ah, there was her voice.

The phone started buzzing again as he came to stand next to Carlisle's crouching form ignoring Alice a second time (which he was certain he'd get an earful for later).

He peered closely at the girl's face, noting the small smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

Her pupils were dilated and she was trying (desperately it seemed) to clear her vision. It wasn't proving too fruitful. He wondered, briefly, why she was trying so hard and what she hoped to accomplish. He could see the way her hands clenched and unclenched even though it pained her.

He could hear the way her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

Interestingly too the he watched the girl's mouth open slightly before closing again. He could see how her brows furrowed in confusion and determination and the slightest frown that pulled at her lips.

It was somewhat aggravating that he could not understand the meaning behind those glances and movements.

He couldn't understand her.

Her eyes darted between the two of them as she blinked furiously.

"I...I'm sorry...this sounds weird but...your eyes...and I don't know w-what...familiar..."

Her voice was soft, breathy and muddled by the chattering of her teeth but she was trying to articulate something to them. She wasn't making much sense, though he suspected her interest must be because of Carlisle's...unusual...eyes color. She sounded delirious.

"Edward come help me. We have to move her."

This time Carlisle spoke aloud, turning his gaze towards him, and Edward felt the weight of the situation and the pressure Carlisle felt for the girl's welfare.

The doctor's burden.

"Edward?"

The girl's voice was fainter this time, softer and more exhausted. Her eyes were fluttering and her grip was loosening against the ground.

She was fading.

"Yes," the fair haired man leaned towards the girl, grasping her uninjured hand. "Yes I'm sorry. My son's name is Edward. My name is Carlisle."

Edward's phone buzzed again.

* * *

Something sparked inside of her. It was familiar.

They were familiar.

Why were their names familiar?

The thought was there, just at the brink of her consciousness, begging her to remember, to understand and to articulate it to the two men near her.

There was something important she needed to remember. It was there, just beyond her reach though.

And it made her head pound furiously, pushed spots to dance before her eyes.

But it was important.

She  _needed_ to remember.

Edward

Carlisle

Edward and Carlisle...

* * *

"Cullen. Carlisle Cullen."

He'd just pulled out his phone as the worlds slipped past the girl's lips.

Edward started in surprise, noting the way Carlisle straightened as well.

He flipped the phone open as the girl repeated the name.

"Carlisle Cullen. That—that name is...I don't know...why, but it's important..." she trailed off.

"Edward?"

Alice queried from the other end of the line.

"Carlisle and Edward Cullen. And Esme. Those...those names are—are important."

"Edward."

He was caught in shock, watching the girl's eyes flutter languidly, her fingers and shoulders twitching from the cold.

How? How did she...?

" _EDWARD_."

Alice's voice was loud against his ear and he winced, turning his attention towards his phone.

"Listen Edward, you need to get her home. She's in danger."

Danger?

"Where does she live? We hardly know anything about her." His voice was low, incomprehensible to the girl who kept muttering about Carlisle and Esme and Edward Cullen and their eyes.

It was a tad unsettling if he were honest.

"NO I mean you need to bring her home. Here. She's in danger and if you take her...if she goes into the hospital or anywhere else, she will die. You have to bring her here."

Carlisle's brows shot up in surprise as he straightened his stance, cradling the girl in his arms.

'I was planning on the hospital' he confessed silently to Edward, before glancing down on the girl whose eyes had slipped closed again. 'but how...?'

"Edward, she knows about us. Somehow, she knows and it's important that we protect her. You have to trust me."

Edward nodded in agreement, aware that Alice couldn't see the exchange...

"Right. We'll be there soon." His voice was haggard, and he felt the pricklings of agitation working their way across his shoulders and down his back.

"Just, Edward, make sure you keep holding your breath."

And with that the line was dead and Edward stood there in shock, peering between his phone at the girl in Carlisle's arms.

He inhaled briefly.

And regretted it.


End file.
